


and if you need a light, i'll be the match to your candle

by littlethiefs



Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: Bodyguard Romance, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Smut, idk this is my first smut so hopefully it isn't too embarrassing, look at me i just said i was too much of a coward to write smut, look how the turntables
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25652260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlethiefs/pseuds/littlethiefs
Summary: In a happier world, her Afshin lives in his own quarters at the Nahid palace, and Nahri is desperate to visit him in his room.
Relationships: Darayavahoush e-Afshin/Nahri e-Nahid
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	and if you need a light, i'll be the match to your candle

She’d been asking to see where he lived for days now. Her Afshin, ever dutiful, ever cautious, had told her firmly that it was a bad idea for her to sneak into his room, but Nahri had never been someone easily denied. Dara, as she knew he would, had eventually relented.

A few months ago, the idea would never even have crossed her mind— but as part of her marriage negotiations, she had asked for him to be stationed at the palace. The bond between the Nahids and their Afshins was a thing of legend after all, and Ghassan — despite the hawk-eyed look he had given her — had assented. It would please the Daevas, give them a false sense of security now that the families they worshipped as heroes were in the heart of the palace. Plus, Nahri suspected the king wasn’t fond of the idea of Darayavahoush e-Afshin, a war god dropped into the streets of Daevabad as if from a legend, stoking Daeva sentiments - a thing much easier done had he still been living with the Pramukhs, mingling freely with his people in large congregations. This way, Ghassan kept an eye on them both. They were under his nose, under the same roof—

—but Nahri had her own tricks up her sleeve. So when Dara had passed her in the hallway that afternoon, whispering a hushed, “Come visit me tonight” into her ear, she was ready. 

That night, she stuffed two pillows under her bed covers to make it look as if she were soundly asleep, before sliding into her softest pair of slippers and her darkest robe. She entered the hallway, calling on the palace’s magic immediately to deaden the sound of her footsteps, to cloak her in shadows as she walked like a wraith through the marbled corridors and stairs built by her ancestors.

His room was in a nondescript area of the palace, tucked away in an alcove. Nahri paused outside the plain mahogany door feeling her heart thud in her chest, straining her magic to hear if anyone else was close by. Nothing. Just an oppressive silence studded with the erratic sound of her heart.  _ Pull yourself together _ , she scolded herself before touching her hand to the doorknob and clicking the door open. Of course it was unlocked. He was waiting for her. 

She stepped into his room, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darkness. It was a small space with bare walls, a bare floor and sparse furnishings. A bed with white sheets, a wooden table, a closet built into the wall and weapons the only decoration. His silver bow was placed reverently on his table and his favorite khanjar sat by his bedside. His leather quiver of arrows rested in a corner, his sword leaned against the eastern wall, and Nahri was fairly certain that the chest on the far end of his room underneath a window thrown open to let in the night chill would also be stuffed with weapons should she check.

And he lay on his bed, hands crossed behind his head, watching her. With his still, acute attention on her, he looked a weapon himself, like a tiger waiting to make his move. He wore a plain black tunic, its buttons undone near the top as if he’d been in the process of removing it before she had so rudely interrupted. His dark curls were loose, and though she couldn’t see much of his face by the faint light of the moon, the emerald of his eyes shone through, his gaze fixed on her. 

She reached a hand behind herself and clicked the lock as he watched. Checking the tremble of her hands, she slipped her fingers underneath the hem of her chador and tossed it unceremoniously on his table. With her back turned towards him, she traced the gleaming silver of his bow with a finger, looking around the room. All while she could feel him watching, his eyes like a brand on her skin.

“Are you not impressed with my living arrangements, Banu Nahida?” came his low voice as she stood by his window, its white curtains fluttering in the breeze around her. She finally turned to face him, arms crossed across her chest.

“Must you live like you’re being punished?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m sure you can spruce up the place with a rug or bedcovers that don’t look like they belong in an infirmary, or perhaps find yourself some nonlethal decor.”

“A waste,” he replied simply. “What is a rug going to do that a bare floor will not?”

“Keep you a little warm.”

“Nahri, I am made of fire.” Right. She kept forgetting that part, especially because she was feeling quite cold standing by the open window. The night wind caressed her skin, leaving gooseflesh prickling on her arms in its wake, but it was a pleasant cold. Unfurling from his position on the bed, Dara came to stand beside her, his heat helping with the chill but not quite enough to keep her from shivering. He noticed. Drawing closer, he moved his scalding hands up her arms, Nahri’s stomach lurching at the touch. Her gaze traced the sharp planes of his cheekbones, the strong set of his jaw, the slope of his neck and the pair of freckles on his collarbone. Her eyes kept on their downward path, observing the way his exposed chest moved with every breath—

“What are you looking at?” He asked, knocking her out of her reverie, a note of teasing in his voice. Nahri flushed at being caught, and Dara touched the back of a finger to her cheek, smiling at the redness that was surely spreading even now at his touch.

“You can be very distracting,” she snapped. He smiled his maddening smile, touching a lock of her hair and making her heart race. By the Creator, he made her dissolve into a blushing mess with a single glance, a single caress and she would be damned if she let him have all the power tonight. Stepping back from him, she let her robe fall to the ground. His eyes widened, his breath leaving him in a ragged rush.

But she soon found that it was a bad idea, because without the fabric covering her up, the cold wind hit her full force. Clenching her fists, Nahri tried to focus on his eyes drinking in her bare form - and although his attention caused a rush of heat to jolt through her body yet again, it was not enough. Dara, ever observant, always so closely attuned to the tiniest changes in her expressions, noticed. “You are cold,” he said mildly, his voice low and hoarse.

“I am not,” she lied.

“You are.” He closed the distance between them and encircled her in his arms. She shivered, this time less from the cold, his hands running over her exposed back, warming every inch of her skin. She played with the hem of his tunic, slipping her hands underneath the fabric, trailing her palms up until she could hook them over the backs of his shoulders. She clutched him close and inhaled his scent, her head swimming from the press of his body against hers, too aware that her breasts were flattened against the sliver of his chest left exposed by his unbuttoned shirt.

Tangling a fist in his hair, she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his. She grazed his lower lip with her teeth, causing him to shudder against her. “Dara,” she whispered into his mouth, their lips moving in unison as she spoke. “You’re very rude.” He broke away from her, understanding what she meant immediately. In the blink of an eye, he was out of his shirt and reaching for her again. He crushed her against him, his mouth back on hers, his fingers tight on her waist.

Gripping the backs of her thighs, Dara lifted her off the ground with startling ease. Nahri wrapped her legs around his waist, the feel of him between her thighs making her dizzy with want. He trailed soft kisses down the line of her jaw, fixating on a spot on the base of her throat that made her arch her back, pressing herself even closer to him. He was carrying her towards his bed when she reached a hand in between them, slipping her hand under the band of his pants, and wrapping her fingers around his cock. Her Afshin, usually so composed and in control, now stumbled. They would have both crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs had Dara not reached out an arm and steadied himself against the wall; now here they were, her dangling from him, legs tight around his waist as he held himself steady with one arm, the other clasped around her to prevent her from slipping off. 

She laughed, giddy that she could have this effect on him.

“And you said I was distracting,” he said against her throat, a grin in his voice. Dara lowered her into a sitting position on his bed, her legs hanging off the side. Nahri peered up at him as he stood tangled between her legs, naked from the waist up, looking like God and the Devil both at once. Craning her neck, she pressed a kiss against his waist bone before she deftly untied the knot of his trousers, pushed down this last item of clothing he was wearing before taking him in her hand.

“Nahri,” Dara breathed, his voice sounding pained. “You do not have to do tha—“ She took him in her mouth and his whole body trembled. Nahri kept her eyes on him as she moved her lips over his shaft, swirling her tongue over his tip, feeling herself clench when he threw back his head in pleasure. He groaned— a visceral sound that made heat unspool in her belly, but she pulled away, pressing a finger to her lips.

“As much as I love to rip that sound from your throat - and trust me, I do - you have to be quiet,” she grinned wickedly up at him, his head still thrown back. After a pause, he met her gaze, then reached out to touch her hair. Softly. Almost reverently.

“You are asking the impossible of me, my love.” Nahri’s heart lurched at the huskiness in his voice, but she only responded with an innocent smile.

“We can stuff something in your mouth; perhaps that will help.” Dara’s eyes gleamed with amusement, and he bent to kiss her at the edge of her mouth. When he straightened back up, she returned her lips back to his cock. He promptly tangled his hands in her hair, pulling her head towards him, pushing himself deeper in her mouth. His tip hit the back of her throat just as Nahri began to rub a palm along his length. Dara’s hands trembled in her hair, and she knew his peak was approaching. As she picked up her pace, Dara pressed a fist to his mouth to muffle his groan… and came undone. He cursed softly, resting his forehead against her shoulder, his ragged, hot breath tickling the hollow of her neck.

Dara had only ever needed but a moment to recover, however. Her breath was still wild, heart thudding in her chest when he kissed the lips that still tasted of him. His hands traced the curves of her body, the brush of his fingers against her breasts frustratingly fleeting. She sighed as Dara bent, trailing kisses down her neck, across her chest before he took a nipple in his mouth, grazing his teeth against the sensitive peak of it. One of his hands slid between her thighs, lightly brushing her slit, causing her to dig her nails into his back. With half-open eyes, Nahri watched the man she loved  _ ruin _ her.

His eyes were feverishly bright, his gaze fixed on her, pinning her in place. He began to flick his tongue against her nipple, even as a finger slipped inside her; Dara wouldn’t touch her clit just yet - no, that wasn’t his style. He liked to make her squirm, and Nahri - liking the way he teased her before giving her everything she wanted and more - was always eager to oblige. Digging her nails in his arm as he worked between her thighs, Nahri bit her lip to keep herself from making a sound. She would never hear the end of it. “My turn,” he whispered against her skin, kissing a line of fire down her chest, her ribs, her belly, before he was on his knees before her. He kissed her inner thigh, holding her in place with his arms locked behind her, fingers clasped around her waist. His lips slowly, maddeningly, made their way towards her slit… and then he tasted her.

“ _ Oh _ ,” she whispered, lifting her legs to rest them on his shoulders, falling back on her elbows. He lapped her wetness up, before stroking her clit with broad strokes of his tongue. What he was doing was enough to make her come, but by the Creator, the way he looked at her while he did it was almost  _ criminal _ . Oh, he would make her  _ scream _ , so she grabbed his pillow and pressed it against her own face. He sucked on her clit, grazing his teeth against it, slipping two fingers inside her and Nahri could give him no warning before she clenched around them and came.

She pushed the pillow away from her and saw Dara still sitting on his knees, as if waiting for permission to arise. She reached for his hand which he gave readily, before she pulled him onto the bed. With a hand against his chest, she pushed him on his back and straddled him, taking a seat on his toned abdomen. She was dripping wet, and his eyes darkened with desire at the feel of her wetness against his skin.

Reaching a hand between them, she took his cock and positioned it at her entrance, sliding down ever so slowly until he was sheathed completely inside her. They both trembled, Dara peering at her with such ferocious tenderness that it made her want to hide. Placing both hands on his chest, she began to rise and descend, his hips moving along with hers until they found their rhythm. He reached up to brush his fingers across her lips, but she captured them in her mouth. They still tasted of her, and that was almost enough to drive her to the edge--

Footsteps. She froze, and Dara bolted upright while he was still inside her, all his senses alert. They listened with bated breath as the footsteps approached… but Nahri, feeling reckless and crazy simply kept fucking him. She was in his lap now, straddling him, their chests touching and their faces barely an inch apart. The footsteps, mercifully, passed by his door and soon faded away, and Nahri was so close to coming that when Dara reached between them to rub her clit, a moan erupted from deep within her. He clapped a hand across her mouth, even as he thrust his hips upward, pushing himself even deeper inside her. Her walls clenched against him, and now it was his turn to groan and her turn to cover his lips with her palm. They reached their climaxes together, hands pressed across each other’s mouths before they collapsed sideways onto the bed.

“ _ Fuck _ , Dara,” she swore against his neck, sweat soaking her body and plastering her hair to her face, her back. “Aren’t you glad I talked you into this?”

“You have gotten yourself in deep trouble, Banu Nahida,” he exhaled. “I don’t think I will be able to let you leave.” She turned his face towards her, kissing him and smiling against his mouth.

“Get some nonlethal decor and a rug for yourself, and perhaps I’ll stay.” Dara laughed, pressing his lips affectionately to her cheek.

“Consider it done, my love.”


End file.
